


planting seeds in a garden (you never get to see)

by starxreactor



Series: Hamilprompts [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Catharsis, Inspired by Hamilton, M/M, Magic, Mind Games, Nightmares, Not A Fix-It, Optimistic Ending, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trapped in Nightmare, not as dark as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starxreactor/pseuds/starxreactor
Summary: Legacy. What is a legacy?-“When’s Daddy coming back?” Morgan says, and Steve has to slowly sit down in the grass, setting her down in his lap. It’s a clear day, not a cloud in the sky. He can hear birds chirping and the scent of flowers permeates the air.It’s spring in May—Tony’s birth month, and only four days after Thanos was defeated. The stones have already been returned to their proper timelines, though there’s no helping the fact that some of them were irreversibly altered.From where he’s sitting he can see the patch of gardenias that, according to Pepper, Tony had spent a lot of time cultivating. Steve has taken up looking after it, in memory of him—of his legacy.Steve gently brushes Morgan’s hair out of her face. “Morgan, we’ve… talked about this. Your daddy, he got really hurt. Badly hurt. He’s not going to—he’s not coming back.”-When a sorcerer attempts to drain Steve's lifeforce by trapping him in an eternal nightmare, he's forced to face some of his biggest regrets and also discover the true meaning of passing on a legacy.





	planting seeds in a garden (you never get to see)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay i wrote the majority of this right after endgame so it’s a bit of a mess. and by majority i mean that i wrote everything up until the last scene. i wasn’t really planning on finishing because of how messy it was until i got my new bingo card, which had legacy, which immediately makes me think of Hamilton because of course. so i figured i could use this for that square and what do you know, i had an entire paragraph talking about how tony had a garden which steve took up in honor of him. that was entirely unintentional i swear. i only added a little bit more just to emphasize the legacy theme.
> 
> Stony bingo square S1 — Legacy
> 
> Thanks to [Lunatical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunatical/pseuds/Lunatical) for beta-ing and helping me figure out the direction for this story! I know I just kind of forgot about it for a few months lmao but yeah here it is
> 
> warning: this does get a bit graphic and bloody in the middle, so be careful if you are squeamish. i tried not to make it outright horror, but there’s also a chance it might be slightly scary due to the dark setting. also warning for attempted/coerced suicide. it's really not as dark as i make it sound but yeah thats just in case

Steve tries not to think about him much. 

It’s not that he hates him, or wants to disrespect his memory—quite the opposite, really. 

It’s just too painful for Steve to remember him. To remember what he sacrificed to save the universe. Every single creature, every single being that is alive after this point owes its life to him. Even the tiniest of insects is only alive because he sacrificed his life, his chance for a happy ending, to save everyone. Now, they all carry the weight of his legacy.

Pepper tells him that it’s fine, he died knowing he hadn’t wasted his life—that he could rest knowing his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. 

But it still hurts. The grief gnaws at his chest, his heart, leaving a dull ache that won’t seem to go away no matter what Steve does.

It hurts seeing precious little Morgan Stark who doesn’t understand why her daddy isn’t at home to take care of her. It hurts seeing Peter Parker who just wanted a mentor—no, a father—and nearly got one, only for the chance to be ripped away. It hurts seeing Harley Keener, the kid who helped his hero manage his anxiety without anyone ever knowing until the end. 

He’s touched so many lives in the short time he had on Earth, and it pains Steve to see reminders of him everywhere. To see all the seeds he’d planted while alive sprout up after his death. 

There’s endless monuments dedicated to the universe’s best defender, dotted all over the globe. Possibly other planets as well, if news has gotten that far. Steve hasn’t bothered to check with anyone. His face shows up on posters and banners, people are making art and sculptures dedicated to him. Every street corner Steve crosses there’s another memorial to the legacy of their savior. 

Steve tilts his head as he hears someone calling for him, cutting off his thoughts, but he remains hidden. He crouches down further, not wanting to be caught this far. The branch creaks from the weight it’s supporting, and Steve winces. If he gets caught now—it’s game over. 

“Where are you?”

Steve nearly slips, but quickly catches himself as the voice comes closer. There’s a pause, and then he can hear footsteps mixing with the sound of laughter. “I heard that!”

The branch cracks slightly—dammit all to hell—and Steve doesn’t hesitate to jump down before it can break and hit someone—specifically Morgan. Hiding in the tree was a dumb idea, anyway. He’d have to come back later and make sure the branch wouldn’t randomly break off. 

Morgan’s eyes go wide and she giggles. “Uncle Steve, what were you doing up there?”

Steve kneels down and ruffles her hair. “I was hiding, silly, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do. Though I guess I’ve lost the game, now.”

Morgan giggles even more, shuffling her feet. “I hid in a tree once and Daddy got so scared he said I can never do that again.”

“Well, your Daddy was right,” Steve says, ignoring the clench in his chest at the use of past tense. “He wanted to keep you safe, and,” he scoops up Morgan, smiling at the excited squeal she lets out, “this tiny, little munchkin is too cute to get hurt.” He presses a kiss against her temple. She’s so precious, and so much like her father. Just seeing her causes an ache in Steve’s heart.

“When’s Daddy coming back?” Morgan says, and Steve has to slowly sit down in the grass, setting her down in his lap. It’s a clear day, not a cloud in the sky. He can hear birds chirping and the scent of flowers permeates the air. 

It’s spring in May—Tony’s birth month, and only four days after Thanos was defeated. The stones have already been returned to their proper timelines, though there’s no helping the fact that some of them were irreversibly altered. 

From where he’s sitting he can see the patch of gardenias that, according to Pepper, Tony had spent a lot of time cultivating. Steve has taken up looking after it, in memory of him—of his legacy.

Steve gently brushes Morgan’s hair out of her face. “Morgan, we’ve… talked about this. Your daddy, he got really hurt. Badly hurt. He’s not going to—he’s not coming back.”

“Why?” Morgan asks, tilting her head. “You just gotta kiss the booboo and it’s all okay. That’s what Daddy does when I got hurt.”

“Not this time, kiddo,” Steve says softly. “There are some booboos that you can’t recover from. You saw his message, right? He made that because he’s in the sky now, and he won’t be coming back.” He thinks of Tony, and how much Howard’s neglect affected him. “Not because he doesn’t love you, he loves you so much more than you could ever imagine, but because he died.” 

Morgan glances up, her brown eyes—so much like her father’s—wide with wonder. “Is he flying there? As Iron Man?”  
  
The wind blows, gently rustling the leaves and grass. Morgan’s hair flies into her face again, and Steve brushes it back out. “Yeah, he is, baby. He saved everyone—including you—and now he gets to fly freely among the stars.”

Morgan’s little hand clenches closed into a fist. “Oh,” she says. Steve doubts she still fully understands. Everyday she asks one of them when Tony’s coming back, and everytime they explain to her that he’s not coming back. She’s only four, far too young to comprehend the idea of something lasting forever. She may be aware that Tony will never come back, but one day in of itself is an eternity to her and so she keeps asking.

It’s probably the worst part of all this. Tony had to leave his daughter who doesn’t even understand why he’s not coming back. And it’s all because Steve had to guilt him into re-joining the Avengers. 

Morgan’s eyes don’t fill up with tears, but she’s suddenly a lot less cheerful than she was before. Her head leans forward, until her face is pressed against the junction between Steve’s neck and shoulder. “I miss him,” she says. “But he knows I love him 3000, so he’s happy.”

Steve doesn’t look down at her, vision blurred by the tears that have collected. He presses a hand against the back of her head, cupping it gently. “Yeah, kiddo, he is. He’s so happy.”

It gets a bit easier after time.

The Avengers are all back together. Some of them have gone their separate ways, like Clint and Thor, but overall most of the team has stayed together—with an empty place in their hearts where Tony and Natasha should be. 

It’s been exactly a month since Thanos was defeated, and also exactly a month since Tony and Natasha sacrificed their lives to save the universe. 

Tony’s birthday is tomorrow. He would have turned fifty-three.

The Avengers haven’t been called out on any major threats since Thanos. There hasn’t been much to worry about. Mostly, they help the Vanished. The ones who are trying to locate their families, or the ones who lost their family in the meantime. 

The world is slowly settling back into its groove. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. 

That’s why it’s a bit of a shock when Steve wakes up from his dream of staring into Tony’s dead eyes, sobbing for him to come back, to a call from FRIDAY alerting him to some sort of magical person who decided to attack down in Manhattan. He stumbles out of bed, hurrying to put on his suit and ignoring the haunting brown eyes still freshly seared into his mind. He rushes downstairs, Sam and Bucky coming out from their room just as he runs down the stairs. He’s clipping on his helmet as he hurries into the kitchen, closely followed by Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper asks.

“There’s this—I got a call from FRIDAY, there’s some magician attacking downtown.”

Pepper blinks at him, and Steve realizes that she and Morgan are eating breakfast. “Oh, are all of you going?”

The others nod, as Steve says, “I am.” He picks up his shield, strapping it tightly on his arm. Shuri had fixed it sometime after the battle. It’s physically the same as ever, but Steve can’t help but feel a difference in it. It’s not… Tony’s. 

“Are you fighting bad guys?” Morgan asks, kicking her tiny feet. “Like Daddy?”

“I am, kid. I’ll be back soon.” Steve forces a smile onto his face and winks at her. He’s aware that the promise doesn’t mean much, not when Tony probably told her the same thing. 

Pepper comes closer. Her face is pale, eyes darkened. Steve’s sure he looks similar. “Don’t—please stay safe, okay? I can’t—just.” She lays a hand on his shoulder. “Please come back.” She glances at all of them, eyes pained. “All of you.”

Steve grasps onto her hand for a moment, squeezing it. “I will. _ We _will. Don’t worry.”

They’ve all latched onto what they have left in the wake of Thanos. There’s been enough death—none of the Avengers want to lose anymore. 

“Thank you.” Pepper smiles softly, watching as he leaves for the front door. “And good luck.”

Steve nods at her, and then heads out.

There’s a quinjet standing right outside in the case of emergencies like this. Steve’s pretty certain it’s the only one they have left right now. The rest were all destroyed when Thanos attacked.

They’ve been rebuilding the compound and everything they’ve lost. It’s slow going, though, so they all live in various areas. Steve, Sam, Bruce, and Bucky all stay with Pepper and Morgan, at Pepper’s request. Rhodey drops by from time to time, but has his own place. Wanda lives with Clint. Carol is in space most of the time, helping other victims of the Decimation. Nebula and Rocket have left with the newly revived Guardians in search of Gamora, and Thor with them, for some reason. The rest all reside in their own homes. 

Once the compound is rebuilt, they’re planning on moving back in. Tony had built it for them the first time—it’s the Avengers’ home. It’s _ Steve’s _ home. It’s a little piece of Tony left just for the Avengers. He loves being here with Pepper and Morgan, but he’s aware that he’s intruding. They need time to grieve on their own.

_ He _needs time to grieve on his own. 

Steve gets the quinjet ready and he resolutely does not think of every time Nat or Tony flew them somewhere on a mission. Those dark brown eyes pop back into his mind, and he shakes his head. It’s done. It’s over with. “FRIDAY, set course for Manhattan.”

Steve steps out in front of the magician, who’s busy hurling blasts of magic at terrified citizens. He doesn’t hesitate before throwing his shield straight at his head.

One second, it’s flying through the air about to hit its target. The next, it vanishes.

Steve falters, staring in shock. “What—”

The magician turns, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He steps closer menacingly. 

Rhodey shoots a repulsor at him, which is easily deflected by some sort of invisible shield. This may be harder than they had initially thought. Steve shares an uneasy glance with Sam. 

“What do you want?” Steve asks.

“To recreate the Decimation,” the magician says, a crazed look in his eyes. “To make the Avengers suffer. You took everyone from me, and you couldn’t even bother to bring them back.”

Steve doesn’t think the magician will get anywhere close to devastating the universe the way Thanos did, but he’s still capable of harming innocents. “You don’t have to do this,” he says. 

The magician eyes darken, glinting in such a way that Steve starts to feel a nervous flutter in his stomach. His heart is pounding, and Steve wonders what’s causing such an extreme fear response. “I don’t have to,” the magician agrees lightly, “but I want to.”

There’s a flash of blue, and then all is black.

_ “Steve.” _

Steve wakes with a gasp. 

Another nightmare. This time of helplessly watching Bucky be tortured by HYDRA, unable to do a thing about it. He glances around the room, breathing heavily. His breaths are coming in short pants, and Steve’s gaze is frantic. 

_ “You have to ground yourself,” _ Tony says in his head. _ “Otherwise you’ll end up falling too fast.” _

That’s right. Steve takes in a deep breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. The way Tony showed him. And then he takes another, and another. He focuses on the feel of his comforter, his grossly expensive yet blissful mattress. 

Slowly, the flashes of blood and screams die out, trickling away for now to reside deep in his heart until the next time. There’s always a next time.

There’s a knock on his door. Steve slides out of bed, running a hand through his hair to try and make it look the slightest bit manageable.

He opens the door and blinks at Tony, who’s staring up at him with a bright grin on his face. “JARVIS told me that you were having some trouble. You okay now?”

Steve starts nodding before Tony’s finished. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”  
  
Tony smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Steve loves those crinkles—then he shakes away the thought, because where had that come from? “You… want to talk about it?”  
  
Steve purses his lips, thinking about it. Tony’s been very helpful with the search for Bucky, as well as his adjustment to the 21st century. Still… it’s a bit personal, and Steve doesn’t think they’re there yet. Besides, with what he knows, it’s better that he doesn’t tell Tony too much. “It’s fine. I’m over it now.”  
  
Tony’s face falls, slightly, and Steve, feeling oddly guilty, hastens to add, “But thanks for offering. You’re a good man.”

_ “No. This isn’t right.” _

Tony freezes, eyes static and dead and not at all like the blur of movement Steve has come to know. The world swirls around his feet, Tony’s body melding into the surroundings. Steve stares in shock, whirling around to try and figure out what’s going on. There’s a pit in his stomach, like the feeling one gets right before dropping down in a rollercoaster. 

That’s seemingly what happens next. Everything dissipates around him, leaving only blackness, and Steve screams as he begins falling. Images flash past him, memories of his childhood, his mother, Peggy, Bucky, Sam, Nat—Tony.

_ “Let’s try this again, shall we?” _

For what seems like the thousandth time, Steve finds his vision going black.

Steve is staring at the place where Thanos just disappeared, where Thor is standing and breathing heavily. 

“Steve?”

Steve whirls around, just in time to see Bucky’s arm turn to dust. Except—no, it’s not Bucky, it’s Tony, and half his body is charred to a crisp, the other side pale and bleeding. Tony collapses onto the ground, and darkness starts spreading around him.

“Tony!” he shouts, running over to his side. “Tony, what—” His hands hover over his body, itching to touch but not wanting to aggravate a wound. A hand encased in smoking, searing hot metal reaches out and seizes his wrist. “Tony—” he starts, but cuts himself off in horror at the sight.

Tony stares up at him with dark eyes, one half of his face blackened and bleeding, exposing the delicate bone underneath. “What are you doing?” he demands. “What gives you the right to use that shield?”

Suddenly, they’re no longer in the hot forests of Wakanda, but rather a cold Siberian bunker, the wind blowing and freezing Steve’s heart. Frost is coating Tony’s face, and Steve is holding the shield above him. 

Tony head is detached from the rest of his body, blood pooling between the gap, and Steve can’t help his immediate retch. He scrambles off of Tony’s body, staring in pure terror at the sight. Blood is spattered on the shield and his uniform, and Steve recoils, hurling the shield far away from him. He doesn’t pay attention to where it clatters to the ground.

The redness is all over him, coating his hands in a sticky tar and spreading its way all the way to the star on his chest. “What—what—” Steve is at a loss for words, terrified out of his mind and desperate to forget the gruesome sight five feet away from him. 

A hand clamps on his shoulder and Steve spins around in terror. Bucky is staring at him, blood pouring from his stump—but that’s not right, he has a metal arm. Then Steve sees the glaze to his eyes, the blood dripping from his pale mouth. “Stevie,” Bucky says. “I—”

The scene shifts, and Steve is sitting in a field with a gentle breeze blowing. The Avengers are playing some sort of game with a frisbee, but he’s more focused on braiding Natasha’s hair. 

The red strands run through his fingers like blood. The golden light from the sunset reflects against her hair, giving it a copper sheen. He’s almost done with the simple fishtail braid, tying it up with a single band. Her hair is dotted with tiny wildflowers that he had picked from around them, the colors blending together in a melody of red, purple, and blue.

“How does it look?” Natasha asks, turning around and looking at him with pure contentedness in her eyes. 

Steve smiles softly. “Beautiful.” And then, because he can’t help messing with her a little, “Just like you.”

Natasha laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, please. Trying to seduce me, Captain?”

“Just speaking the simple truth.” Steve stares down at Natasha, whose eyes are more open than he’s ever seen them, a soft green the same color as the field they’re picnicking in. They both glance over as Tony lets out a loud burst of laughter, managing to get one up on Thor and tackling him to the ground. They roll around for a bit, giggling madly. Clint runs over and joins the pile, dragging in Bruce when he gets close enough.

Steve and Natasha glance at each other and roll their eyes. “Children,” Natasha says.

Steve tilts his head. “Aren’t you one of them?”

Natasha turns back to the scene. Steve can only see part of her face, so he’s not entirely sure what she’s thinking. But eventually she says, “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

Tony catches sight of them and his face lights up in sheer joy, as bright and golden as the sun. In the sunlight, his eyes sparkle like the most precious of stones. “Nat, Steve, hi!” He pushes himself up and hurries over to the picnic blanket, blinking at Natasha’s new hairdo and crossing his arms. “Well, Agent Romanoff, it seems I underestimated the Captain’s skills. Two can play at that game.”

“What are you going to do?” Natasha asks warily.

“Nothing stupid,” Tony says cheerfully, sitting down and plucking several flowers. “Just—you ever made a flower crown?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Steve says, at the same time as Natasha’s, “No.”

“Great! Something I can teach you.” Tony pokes his tongue through his lips, and Steve can’t help but stare at the soft pinkness. It would be so, so easy to kiss him right here, with the golden sunlight filtering onto them, the birds singing soft melodies, the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers. It would be beautiful. Romantic. 

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have that right. And so he sits there as Tony focuses on the flower chain in his lap, watching his nimble hands weave the stems through each other, incredibly aware of the fragility of them. 

It only takes a few minutes before Tony is done and gently placing the crown atop Natasha’s head. “There,” he says. “A crown fitting for the queen you are.”

Steve glances away for a second, wondering what the rest of the team is up to. Seems they’ve gone back to playing frisbee, Bruce leaping into the air to grab the frisbee. When he looks back, he recoils at the two bodies lying on the blanket next to him. “Oh, fuck!” Steve cries, jumping up and staring down at the bodies.

It’s Natasha and Tony, their eyes glazed over and faces spotted with blood. The petals on Natasha’s flower crown are soaked in red, the same color as her hair. But there’s no possible way, not when—he had just looked away for a second, how could they—? “Thor! Clint! Bruce!” he cries. “Come over here! Get over here!” His voice is hysterical, on the verge of tears.

This shouldn’t be happening, not when they were so happy—how could he have missed what happened literally inches away from him?

“Odin’s beard,” Thor breathes as he rushes over, Clint and Bruce on his tail. 

_ “Why isn’t this working?” _

Steve doesn’t have time to react to the sudden voice that seems to be coming from all sides before he’s sitting in Berlin, watching Tony as he armors up. He’s talking about his parents, the way his mom managed to soothe things over between him and his dad.

“You know, I’m glad Howard got married. I only knew him when he was young and single,” Steve says, watching Tony as he straightens up his tie. 

“Oh, really? You two knew each other?” Tony snaps, seemingly without thinking. “He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times. God, I hated you,” he murmurs to himself.

That stings, it really does, but he gets it. From what he knows of Tony’s dad, he can’t blame him. “I don’t mean to make things difficult.”

“I know, because you’re a very polite person.”

Steve frowns at that. Is he polite? He tries, sure, but then he goes and does things like— “You sure about that?”

Tony scoffs. “Well, you’re certainly nicer than me.”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Steve says, getting up from his seat. He pushes the pens to the side. He doesn’t care about some artifact from his past. He cares about the now—he cares about Tony. “You’re a better man than you make yourself out to be, Tony. I’ve seen you with your daughter.”  
  
Tony blinks at him. “With my what?”  
  
Steve tilts his head. “With… your daughter? You have one, don’t you?” He’s certain Tony does, he just saw him with her a few days ago.  
  
“Cap, I literally just told you that Pepper’s not pregnant. Now you’re trying to tell me that I have a daughter?”

Wait. This is—this isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. 

_ “No, it’s not,” _ the voice says as though it’s agreeing with his thoughts. Steve wonders if he’s going insane. _ “Something is wrong. Something is interfering.” _

“Did you hear that?” Steve demands, glancing around wildly. “I can’t be the only one.”

Tony is staring at him, concern visible in every pore of his face. “Steve, what the hell are you talking about? Are you okay? Maybe you should—“ His voice cuts off, body melting into the swirling depths of the office.

“Tony!” Steve shouts, vision flickering with black dots. He reaches out, desperate to catch Tony for once in his life—he failed every other time, but maybe he can, just this once—

  


_ “There we go.” _

He’s crouched in a corner. 

The room is dark, trashed with broken up pieces of furniture and glass. Every possible surface is grimy, metal tarnished and rusted. There’s blood stains on the carpet, soaking deep into the fibers. 

Steve can feel the same blood coating his hands. No matter what he seems to do, it won’t go away. He’s got red in his ledger, and it’s there to stay. 

He can hear voices whispering, faint and hushed. Steve tilts his head against the wall, trying to catch a word or two. Nothing. The wind howls, blowing into the room from the open window and chilling the air. Steve can see his breath. He wonders if he’s back in the ice.

It’s Tony’s room, he thinks. Why he’s here, he’s not sure. He doesn’t remember much of anything—try as he might, the memories won’t come. He just… knows things. He knows Tony’s room is not supposed to be like this.

Steve’s been in it before. It’s clean, immaculate. Like he doesn’t even live in it.

This—this is a hovel. A monster’s dwelling. 

Steve pushes himself up from his crouching position. The curtains on the window are torn, the bedsheets in disarray. Steve can see more blood soaking the bed, coating the mattress in a macabre display of art.

The whispers get louder.

He turns, searching for the source of the voices. No, the voice—it’s one person talking. But to whom? Steve?

“He’s coming, and it won’t be pretty, he’s coming, and it’ll be your fault.” 

Steve knows that voice. “Tony?” 

The whispers stop. Steve hurries over to where he thinks he heard them, out of the room and into the hallway. He’s in the tower, but it’s not his tower. Not the one he knows. This one is dark, eerie. Foreboding in a way it shouldn’t be.

There’s no lights on, the passage completely devoid of any brightness. Steve can see cracks on the walls seeping blood. It sets a bit of unease in his mind. Steve’s seen far too many horror movies. He knows how this goes. He just doesn’t understand _ why _. 

As he walks down the abnormally long hallway, he can hear sounds coming from behind the doors. With a jolt, he realizes they’re his memories. He can hear Natasha’s cheerful, “See you in a minute.” Tony murmuring, “So was I,” in a broken tone sharp enough to cut glass. Bucky’s smooth drawl as he says, “I’m with ya till the end of the line, pal.”

Steve hesitates by each door, wondering what will happen if he dares to open one. Probably nothing good. Tony’s completely silent now. Steve has a feeling he’ll find him at the end of the hallway—not that he knows if it ever _ will _end.

There’s paintings on the wall. Steve barely glances at them at first, before he decides to take a look, and recoils in terror. It’s a portrait he once made of Tony, except distorted, with his eyes hollow and a thin line of blood dripping from his mouth. Next to it is another one of his paintings, capturing their picnic—the moment he noticed Nat and Tony’s bodies. 

Steve’s starting to forget what’s real and what’s not. Did they actually die during that trip? It was so peaceful, though. And yet, he can’t help but remember how visceral it all felt—seeing the bodies, the blood surrounding them, the reactions from everyone else.

He straightens himself up, staring at the painting, before forcing himself to look away. It’s too much to handle. 

Wherever he is, this is not normal. This is—altered reality. Because of the Reality Stone, perhaps? Maybe someone managed to get it from the past and is using it on him. But why would they bother forming this horrific and violent scene? What purpose does it serve beyond torturing his mind?

Behind one of the doors, Steve hears the sound of screaming and crashing metal. Of destruction. His hand hovers over the knob, wondering if it’s worth it. 

_ Few things are _, he thinks. But it’s his job to deal with the unpleasant things. He can’t hide his head in the sand and expect it to go away on his own. 

That’s not what Tony or Natasha would do. 

_ Whatever it takes. _

Steve musters up his courage and crosses the threshold. He stops and blinks at the scene, because there is no room. Instead, the door opens up to a battlefield.

The final battle against Thanos, to be more specific. Steve watches in horror as soldiers clash against Thanos’ army, as Scott steps around crushing whatever enemies he can. Pepper and—oh, god, Tony are synchronizing their movies as though they’ve been fighting side-by-side for decades. 

The stench of blood fills his nose and mouth, leaving behind the taste of copper. Of iron. The fighting is absurdly loud, drowning out anything else Steve could potentially hear. It’s almost too much to handle—in the heat of the moment it’s only an afterthought, something to be ignored, but standing here, watching as the universe nearly reaches its end, he can’t bear it.

Steve sees himself running and summoning lightning from Mjolnir to bring it crashing down on several enemies at once. He recalls the shock he had felt when it came rushing into his palm, although he had hidden it at the time. 

Back during that party all those years ago, he hadn’t been faking: he really hadn’t been able to lift it. At the time, he had wondered why. It had nearly gone up, before dropping back down. Surely that meant there was something wrong with him?

And there was—there absolutely was. It wasn’t until after the Civil War that Steve realized why Mjolnir had rejected him. She had sensed the deepest stirrings of his treachery, even when he himself hadn’t realized it.

_ “No trust, liar.” _

God, he was an idiot. Too caught up in his own problems to realize how he was hurting the people around him. How he was hurting Tony. And sure, they made up and all, but only because they were on borrowed time. They were supposed to talk it all out. Make up properly. 

And now that would never happen, because Tony was dead. 

Steve stands there, frozen, watching the epic fight. He searches for another glimpse of Tony, but he can’t find him in the jumble of heroes and villains. Carol’s already here, so it isn’t long until—_ it _happens.

He knows he shouldn’t, he absolutely should not, but he _ has _to.

He would do anything for Tony, including ripping out his own heart. 

He begins to run through the crowd, keeping a sharp eye out for Tony. Since this is just a memory, nothing can affect him except his own mind, and so there’s no problem going straight through an axe or sword. 

Steve stops once he spots Thanos. Tony’s lying on the ground nearby. It’s almost time. 

Carol is dueling with Thanos right now, blazing brightly like the sun. He takes off the Power Stone and hits her with its sheer strength, quickly returning it to the gauntlet. 

At the same time, Steve catches Tony looking at something—no, someone. Steve follows his gaze, finding Strange, who lifts up one finger. 

An understanding seems to go between the two of them, one Steve is not privy to, but he watches the realization bloom in Tony’s eyes, and that’s when he knows. His stomach is heavy, his limbs lead. He feels a fire burning under his skin from the pure shock and horror, acid crawling up the back of his throat. He knows what’s coming. 

Tony rushes over and grapples with Thanos, easily getting knocked aside.

_ “I am inevitable.” _ Thanos snaps the gauntlet, only to stop in surprise when nothing happens. Steve wouldn’t know, too focused on Tony and the pain visible in his eyes from the surge of power. Last time he hadn’t been able to pay any attention to Tony until he realized who had the Stones.

_ “And I… am… Iron Man,” _ Tony breathes, one last act of defiance, and snaps. 

The world floods with light. Despite it being a memory, Steve has to look away from the intensity. When it dissipates, he hurries over to Tony. He ignores the army and Thanos turning to dust—they’re not worth his time. 

“Tony,” he breathes, collapsing onto his knees. He ignores the disgusting scent of burnt flesh, of sizzling blood. 

He didn’t have the right to be near him as he died that first time, not after what he did, but every atom in his body ached with the desire to be near him, to kiss him, to hold him, and tell him that he did good. 

But this time, he can watch from Tony’s side as he crawls over to some wreckage, collapsing against it. He can watch, reaching for a hand that will never feel him, as Peter bursts into tears, clinging onto him. He can watch as Tony’s first and true love assures him that he can rest now. 

But he can’t help. 

Steve’s starting to realize he has some sort of masochistic streak within him, because it’s harder this time, being so close and yet unable to provide any sort of comfort. 

He should have known, and yet he wants to torture himself with this agony. It’s all he deserves. He would do anything for Tony, and here he is, sitting still as his heart is ripped out. 

Around them, the heroes kneel in respect for the universe’s savior. 

The Steve from the memory comes by after a few minutes of Pepper, Rhodey, and Peter grieving. He kneels down opposite Steve and slowly detaches the armor, picking up the vulnerable body revealed underneath the shell. Steve watches as they leave, as they pass through the throng of heroes who lower their heads.

Steve remains there, head down, far longer than he should, until the memory starts to dissipate at the edges when his memory-self leaves the area.

He’s starting to realize just how much he failed Tony. Steve had always known, of course. He’d known since the Civil War—but it’s really hitting him now. Tony died because Steve couldn’t let him be safe and happy. Tony died because Steve had to guilt him into helping them. They could have figured out time travel out a different way, or handled the time heist without him.

Because he didn’t do that, because he didn’t do more, Tony is dead. His daughter will grow up without a father. Tony tried so hard to break the cycle, and he did, but Steve wonders if he thinks he failed, because in the end he left her anyway. He guesses he’ll never know. 

The memory has long since ended. All around him is a darkness threatening to consume him—if it hasn’t already. The only thing left is the door.

Steve sighs and pushes himself up. For once in his life, he _ can’t _ do ‘this’ all day. He just wants to rest, to make it all stop. He’s tired. And yet, he’s Captain America, and so he pushes on. 

He opens the door and steps back into the hallway, shutting it behind him and leaning against it. He lets out a deep, shaky breath. That was a mistake. And yet, something that was sorely needed as his punishment.

Steve knows what he’s thinking is unhealthy—he’s usually not so negative, but that was back before Tony died. Back before he had to witness all his mistakes—those visions he had before were messages telling him all the way he’d fucked up.

Natasha and Tony died the moment he looked away during that picnic, and it couldn’t be more clear that it was his fault.

He glances back down the hallway. The end is shrouded in shadows, and after experiencing what he just did he’s a lot less willing to find out what is hidden there. 

But this seems like some sort of test. Maybe he’s dying, and this is his purgatory? 

Then it must be some sort of test. What for, he’s not sure. But he wants to find out.

With that thought in mind, Steve sets off again. He doesn’t get tempted by the voices behind the doors anymore. His focus is singularly on reaching the end of the hall. 

He hears creaking the closer he gets, and he thinks he can make out a dark shape moving back and forth. 

“I saw this coming, _ liar _, and I needed you. Now there’s nothing, nothing at all.”

“Tony?” Steve calls out hesitantly.

Again, the whispering stops. He can still see the shadow moving, though. Steve approaches quietly, gently, until he’s right by Tony’s side and staring down at him. Tony is rocking back and forth, staring ahead blankly, covered in blood and right side burnt, flesh mangled and melted in a gruesome display. He’s completely silent, unresponsive to Steve save for the fact that he stopped talking when Steve spoke to him. 

Steve crouches down, reaching out a hand to place it on Tony’s left shoulder. “Tony—”

Quick as a flash, a tight grip wraps around his wrist, pulling him forward. Tony’s dead eyes stare into his accusingly. “You could have saved me,” he hisses. “Why didn’t you do more?”

“Tony, I—”

“You should have died in the ice.” His eyes are emotionless, lifeless. And yet, there is so much burning hatred in his voice that Steve can’t help but recoil. “Because of you, I’m dead.”

Steve straightens up, stepping backward. He can’t help but feel a bubble of anxiety forming in his stomach, tightening his chest and leaving behind a nauseous sensation. Tony pushes himself up, following Steve menacingly. He points his right index finger straight at Steve, charred and burnt with bone slightly visible. “Because of you, Morgan will have to grow up without a father.”

The scenery ripples as it changes into something else, but Steve doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with Tony. “I—Tony, I—I swear, I’m sorry,” he says, voice frantic. “I’m sorry, I really am, I hate that things happened the way they did.”

Tony moves his hand so that he’s pointing to the side. Steve follows it with his gaze, and with a jolt, he realizes they’re standing on the edge of the cliff on Vormir. He’d only been there once—to return the Soul Stone and bury Natasha’s body—but he vividly recalls the mounting dread he’d felt standing at the precipice. The entire place had an unnatural, ethereal feel to it—like it shouldn’t technically exist in the universe but somehow it did. 

He remembers standing at the edge, looking down at her body, and thinking that her sacrifice hadn’t gone in vain. He had promised to make sure everyone remembered her just as they did Tony. 

Now, they’re back here, and Tony’s pointing to the abyss. “If you loved me,” Tony says, voice shaking, “jump.”

Steve blinks and looks at Tony in shock. “Tony, what?”

“I sacrificed myself for the universe,” Tony whispers. “You couldn’t even sacrifice yourself for the Avengers. For our family. You didn’t lose anything, not like the rest of us. If you loved me, prove it. Sacrifice yourself for me, and I’ll come back.”

Steve stares at him, studying his trembling body, the desperation on his face. There are tears on his cheeks, slipping through the cracks formed by the burns. “I…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Steve? I had a family. You have nothing. It seems fair, doesn’t it?”  
  
“It does,” Steve says, agreeing. He can feel the sting in his eyes of the tears threatening to spill over. Everything Tony’s saying—it’s all true. He hadn’t had to make any concessions, not like the rest of them. Not once did he risk himself. And yet, he’s the one living when it should be Tony and Nat. 

Everyone would be so happy if Tony came back. It’s the least Steve can do. Steve turns towards the cliff’s edge slowly. He can feel Tony’s gaze burning into the side of his head. He breathes in deeply, lightly walking until his toes are right at the edge and Steve can look over. It’s a long fall, the ground partially obscured by fog. 

_ Whatever it takes _ , he tells himself. _ For Tony. For Morgan. _

He steps off. 

The wind screams in his ears as he drops, battering his body and freezing it from the inside out. 

He doesn’t hit the ground. 

Instead, warm arms enclose around his torso, pulling him up and away from his death. “No!” he shouts, wriggling to try and get out, but the grip is iron. “No, let me go!”

“No,” says the voice—and he knows that voice, it’s Tony, but why would he—? 

“Tony? Why are you—why are you saving me?” He realizes Tony’s in the armor, the one he was wearing in the final battle. But he’s—he’s dead, there’s no reason he should be saving Tony. Not when it’s Tony’s life on the line.

There’s a sigh, and Tony sets Steve back down on the cliff, far away from the edge. Steve glances over and sees the other Tony, the one who told him to jump, lying motionless on the ground. “Tony!” he shouts, about to run over and check on him, but the armor holds him back.

“I’m right here, Steve,” Tony says gently. “That’s not me.”

Steve turns to look at the armor. The helmet retracts, revealing Tony’s face, followed by the rest of the armor. In contrast to the other Tony, this one has a mess of scars all along the right side, but they’re clean and healed. He looks—healthy. Younger. “What?” 

Around them, Vormir melts away to reveal lightness. The white should be blinding, but somehow it only serves to highlight Tony. He’s the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen, and he can’t help but drink in the sight. 

“That was your own guilt, Steve. Not me. I would never—” Tony’s voice thickens, as if he’s about to cry, “—how could you ever think that of me? I would never, _ never _ask anyone to kill themselves for me.”

“I—” Steve starts, but has no answer. “I. I would deserve it.”

“No. No, you wouldn’t.” Tony’s eyes are filled with tears, and Steve wants to wipe them away, but he doesn’t have the right. “If I had known how much—how much guilt you harbored over what happened, I would have interfered earlier.”  
  
Steve tilts his head slightly. “What?”  
  
“Steve, I’m not just a… dream. It’s actually me in the flesh. Or spirit. Whatever. You—” Tony glances away for a second, breathing in through his nose, “—there was this sorcerer who put you into a dream-state. You were supposed to experience horrible nightmares, and they would drain your life-force until you died. I—I couldn’t let that happen, so I interfered, trying to give you happy memories instead of what you got.” 

He lets out a laugh. “Turns out it’s harder to fuck with reality when you’re dead than I thought. The sorcerer did notice at some point, which is why you heard some voice speaking. And then he put you into that hallway. At the end, ‘I’ would kill you. And you would have died in real life, too. But I managed to stop that in time. I guess because you’re in the midway point between life and death?”

Steve glances down at his feet. Of course Tony’s trying to save him, even once he’s dead. “I...”  
  
“I don’t know,” Tony continues, not noticing Steve and shaking his head, “I’m not an expert on this kind of stuff. But my point is, it’s really me. That _ thing _ you were talking to was not. I would never—Steve, look at me.” His voice is gentle, yet firm, expecting him to yield to his command. Steve lifts his head, staring straight at Tony’s face. The patch of scars should be unfamiliar, alien, but somehow Steve settles into the sight as though he’s always known Tony like this. “I would never, ever want you to die before your time. You have so much to live for.”  
  
“Do I?” The words slip out without thinking, and Tony’s face gets impossibly sad, eyes watering again. 

Tony grabs his hand, holding it in between his own two. “You do.” And then, hesitantly, he says, “I think… you should see a therapist. I mean, I know I’m dead, but you’re not. You should really see one.”

Steve smiles despite the tears collecting in his eyes. “Maybe I will.” Then he realizes something Tony said and pauses. “I… if you could… interfere in something on Earth. Is that—is that something you’re able to do when dead?”

“Uhh,” Tony tilts his head, furrowing his brow, “no? It’s more that, like I said, you’re stuck in between life and death right now. I’m… not even supposed to do this, technically,” he admits. “But I couldn’t just let you die.”

Steve nods slowly. That didn’t answer much, but he figures he can just let it go. He trusts Tony, he really does. “Can we…” He shuffles his feet awkwardly, but Tony’s staring at him intently, expression completely open and unguarded. “Can we… talk about everything? That, uh, everything that happened? We never—we never got closure.”

Tony’s eyes soften, and he sits down cross-legged in front of Steve, who follows his lead. It’s almost hilarious, in a way, to think that he’s talking with a dead person and they just sit down so casually. “I was waiting for you to ask that.”  
  
And talk they do.

It involves a lot of tears, on both their parts, and the conversation lasts for what feels like hours. Steve can’t exactly tell. But by the end Steve can feel a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t felt since—since before becoming Captain America, probably.

There’s a lot of baggage between the two of them, and their lives have been so intertwined, even before they met, that there’s almost too many topics to bring up. They’d made their peace before the time heist, sure, but it wasn’t really _ talking _. Not like what they’re doing now. 

Tony starts out by talking about Howard, what he did to him and how that affected Tony’s development for the rest of his life. Although he’s managed to find closure with him by traveling back into 1970, Howard was a looming shadow over both of them and their first meeting, and that subsequently fucked over their relationship. That slowly morphs into what Bucky did and the Civil War, and then Steve can’t help but start crying, because his biggest regret in life to this day is the way he treated Tony.

“No, Steve, listen, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Tony says, holding him close to his chest while he breaks down. “I’m—okay, fine, I’m still annoyed that you lied to me like that, but I get it. I do. And I’ve forgiven you. Dying can give you a lot of perspective.”

“It was still the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Steve whispers into his chest. 

Tony hums, tracing a pattern on Steve’s back. “Well, I won’t deny that. But I forgive you, okay? And I—look, it wasn’t all one-sided. I said and did horrible things to you as well. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel lesser, if I ever—attacked you just because you existed. I should have tried harder during the Civil War. And I’m sorry for what I did to Barnes, to you, in Siberia.”

“Tony, you did try, it was me—”

Tony holds up a hand, stopping him. “Nope. We’re both at fault. We were both idiots. Our mistakes, they went both ways. So stop holding the burden solely on your shoulders. We both fucked up.” It’s blunt, acerbic, and so Tony.

Steve gives him a watery smile. “Okay. Okay, fine. I forgive you, too.”

“Good,” Tony says. “It’s time for you to move on.”

“How?” Steve presses closer against Tony, savoring the feel of his warmth against him. God, he missed him so much. Even now, he can feel the ache in his chest knowing that eventually, he’ll have to leave Tony. 

“I don’t know. Whatever you want, Cap. Just—one thing that I want you to do? For me?”

Steve moves back, facing Tony as he pulls his knees up against his chest. “What?”

“Stay with the Avengers. They were… _ you _ were my family just as much as Pepper and Morgan, and it tore me apart when the Civil War happened.” Tony looks straight at Steve, face completely serious. “Please. They’re your family. Don’t leave them.”

Steve had no plans to do so, because they’re his family as well—they’re his _ home _, but hearing Tony ask him only solidifies his decision in his mind. He’d been tempted to stay with Peggy when he returned the Stones, to be honest. Part of him always loved her, even as he moved on, and staying with her and hiding was easier than coming back to a world where there was no Tony Stark. 

But he’d forced himself to come back after their dance, because it just wouldn’t be fair to Sam, to Bucky, to any of the Avengers left. And he didn’t think Tony would have approved anyway.

Tony shrugs. “I would have supported whatever choice you made, because I just—I—I just want you to be happy,” he says, clearly knowing what Steve is thinking, which is just—freaky. “But… I guess part of me would have wished you’d stayed? I’d like to think that you found a new life here.”

Steve nods slowly. “It’s fine. I love her, but she had her own life, with her own husband, and her own kids. It’s time for me to move on. Besides, I.” He rests his chin on his knees. His heart is pounding, and isn’t that strange, considering this was all in his mind? “I loved—no, I do. I do love you,” Steve says, ripping it off like a bandage. Tony’s gaze is unreadable. “I have for a long time.”

Tony purses his mouth, nodding. “I know.” And then, “I love you, too, Cap.”  
  
Steve blinks in shock. He’d been expecting pure dismissal, or Tony looking uncomfortable but trying to make him feel better. “What? But—Pepper—”  
  
“You can love more than one person at a time, Steve,” is all Tony says. His smile is soft, tinged with bittersweetness. In that moment, Steve can tell he’s ruminating on all their ‘what-could-have-beens.’ “I’m sad we didn’t get to work out, but—I never stopped loving you. Even in our darkest moments.”  
  
Steve lifts one corner of his lips up in an attempt to smile. The tears he had held at bay for so long begin to spill over. “Same. And then—you _ died _.”

He feels Tony wrap his arms around him tightly, holding him close. “I wish there was another way, Cap. But not everyone gets a happy ending.” Steve glance up at Tony’s face, and he seems to be crying as well, silent tears tracing silvery paths down his cheeks. “I won’t, not for a long time, but you still have a chance.”

Once Steve has managed to get the majority of his crying under control, only sniffing a few times and wiping away his tears, Tony reaches out and rests a hand on Steve’s. “It’s time for you to wake up, Steve.” Around them, the world of light is dissolving.

“I don’t want to go,” Steve whispers. “I don’t want to live in a world where you’re dead.”

Tony moves forward, so that he can press his palm against Steve’s heart and his forehead against Steve’s own. “I’m not dead. I’m in your heart.” He pulls away and looks up at Steve’s face, and his gaze is so open and earnest that Steve can’t help the fresh bout of tears. 

Tony wipes them away tenderly, touch soft and gentle and everything Steve has craved for _ years _. He can’t help but lean into it, because it’ll probably be the last time he ever receives such a touch from Tony. 

Without thinking, he presses his lips against Tony’s, because it’s all he’s wanted to do for years and he thought he’d never get the chance again. To his surprise, Tony returns the kiss, before separating a few moments later. His eyes are full of love and warmth, and Steve has never desired someone so badly before.

“Steve, I want you to promise me. Tell Morgan how much I love her. I don’t want her to grow up thinking—that I would have rather died than be with her. It’s fine if she gets angry at me, blames me, but make sure that not even for a second she doubts I ever loved her. I love her so much—” Tony’s mouth parts slightly, and then he says, “I love her 3000. Please, just—let her know.”

“I will,” Steve says, feeling the promise lock itself deep in his heart. He knows how Tony grew up. The last thing Tony would ever want would be for his daughter to grow up feeling the same. Steve can feel the tug now. He’s almost awake, just— “Wait! I have one more question. Is, is Nat here? Is she with you?”  
  
Tony smiles softly. “She’s here. And she wants the same I do. For you to move on and live your life.” He takes Steve’s hand, palm side up, and presses something into it. “I’ve given it to you before, but now I want this to be a reminder of me.”

Steve closes his hand around Tony’s for a second, squeezing it tightly, and then pulls it away to take a look at whatever he gave him. His chest clenches at the sight of Tony’s arc reactor, the one he had been using when he—died. Steve’s vision ripples, the fabric of the world shifting and dissolving away into blackness, and Tony with it. “Wait, no!” he shouts, hand tightening over the arc reactor. Soon, the darkness is all he sees, and—

“Cap? You back with us?”

Steve groans as the light shining on him blinds his vision, bringing up a hand automatically to shield his eyes. 

“There we go,” Sam murmurs. “You’re doing well.”

“Sam?” Steve mumbles, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. He brings his hand down slightly to get a look at Sam, who’s standing at the side of his bed along with Bucky. 

“That’s me, Cap,” Sam says gently. “How are you feeling?”

Steve turns his head, eyes still squinting, to try and get a look at where he is. Seems like he’s in his room in the cabin. He’s lying on his bed, and there’s something sharp and hard digging into his right hand. He moves his hand away so that it’s no longer pressing into it. 

God, what a bizarre dream. Meeting Tony like that—it had been the conversation he had always wanted but could never have. “I’m… doing okay,” he says honestly. “What happened?”

Bucky and Sam share a glance with each other. “Well, the magician put some sort of spell on you and then disappeared,” Bucky says. “It didn’t seem to do much besides put you to sleep. We had Strange come over to take a look at your mind, and he said you’d be fine and that eventually you would wake up. So we’ve been waiting for most of the day for you to do that.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He thinks of how Tony had argued that he was real, that he wasn’t just a figment of Steve’s imagination, but Steve finds that hard to believe. He’s sure the magician had something to do with it.

“I’ll be right back,” Sam murmurs, nodding at Steve and leaving the room. 

An orange portal appears to the side, and Steve sits up as Strange comes through. “Ah, Captain, you’re awake,” he says. “I just stopped the sorcerer so that’s probably why.”

“Why couldn’t you just wake me up yourself?” Steve asks.

Strange shrugs. “I saw what was going on in your mind and thought it would be best if I left it alone until you were ready.” He comes closer, hands out. “But I would like to check that you’re fully recovered, just in case.”

“Go for it,” Steve says blandly.

Strange nods and takes that as his cue to do whatever the hell it is that he does—create symbols and runes that Steve doesn’t understand, but by the end Strange nods in satisfaction. “You’re clean,” he announces.

“Great,” Steve says, and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The door bursts open before he can get up, however, and Morgan rushes in, followed by Sam, Rhodey, and Pepper. Steve watches as Sam and Bucky step off to the side, talking amongst themselves, but is quickly distracted by Morgan.

“Uncle Steve!” she shouts, running straight to the side of the bed and hugging his legs. “Are you okay?”

Steve laughs and leans over to ruffle her hair. “I am now, kid. Did you miss me?”  
  
“Yes!” Morgan says, crawling up onto the bed and into Steve’s lap. “Can we, can we play hide ‘n seek later?”  
  
“Of course we can. Hey, Pepper,” Steve says as she gets closer. She smiles at him, but then her gaze is seemingly distracted something else, and her expression hardens.

“Where did you get this, Steve?” She walks around to the other side and picks something up, showing it to him. It’s Tony’s arc reactor, and Steve’s mind is blank for a moment, before he recalls, extremely vividly, that Tony had given him one just before he woke up.

Then that means—

No. It’s not possible. It _ can’t _be. 

But he’d woken up with that in his right hand, the same one Tony initially placed it in. And Steve knows for a fact that up until he’d woken up, he was not in possession of an arc reactor. There’s no way he could be. 

And yet, there’s the undeniable truth, Steve thinks as he stares at it. “I…”

“Steve, I’m not mad or anything, I’m just wondering where you found it.” Pepper shares a glance with Rhodey, who looks just as confused.

“I… I don’t know,” Steve lies. “I have no idea where it could have come from. I swear, I just woke up with it in my hand.”

“That’s impossible, Steve,” Rhodey says.  
  
“Nothing’s impossible,” Steve says simply.

Pepper glares at him, and Steve lets out a sigh, unconsciously smoothing down Morgan’s hair as she looks up at the two of them. “I had a dream… while I was under the spell. Of talking to... Tony. He gave an arc reactor to me just before I woke up. I thought it was—fake, you know. A fever dream. But… maybe not.”

Rhodey is staring at him with unreadable eyes, while Pepper lets out a gasp, covering her mouth. Her eyes are watery as she stares down at the reactor. “He really—? Oh, Tony.”

“You can have it,” Steve says, uncomfortable. “You have more of a right to—”  
  
“No, no,” Pepper says, and presses it into his hands. Morgan reaches out and curiously touches it with one tiny finger. “You keep it. He gave you his heart because he loved— _ loves _ you.”  
  
Steve blinks, feeling a shard of guilt strike his chest. “Pepper—”  
  
Pepper shakes her head, closing his fingers around it. Her hands are warm where they’re touching. “I always knew he loved you, and it never bothered me. It was just a… fact of life, and it didn’t mean he loved me any less.” Pepper smiles at him. It’s a soft, small one, tinged with tears, but somehow Steve gets the feeling that it’s the happiest she’s been in weeks. “Keep it,” she repeats. “It’s his legacy in your hands.”

“No,” Steve says, with much more confidence that he feels. He grabs Morgan with one arm, standing up and shifting her to his hip. “It’s—in all of ours. He planted the seeds for us.” And he hefts Morgan higher, pressing his lips to her temple. “It’s important that we—keep them alive. Let them grow.”

Rhodey is nodding, while Pepper just looks at Steve with those sad, yet hopeful eyes of hers. “I can see why he loved you,” she says eventually, letting out a slight laugh and shaking her head. She reaches out her arms, and Morgan whines as she’s transferred into her mother’s hold. “You should rest for now, Steve.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I promise I’ll keep the little monster distracted.”

Steve has to admit, he does feel a bit emotionally drained from everything that’s happened, and he’s going to need some time just to sort through everything that happened. He nods and kisses Morgan on the cheek, smiling at her. “I just need to rest for now, Morgan. I swear we’ll play all the hide and seek you want after.”

“Okay,” Morgan says, swinging her feet. “Bye, Uncle Steve.”

Rhodey steps forward and takes her into his own arms, heading over to the door. “I’m here, too, kiddo. Don’t tell me you forgot about your favorite uncle.”

Morgan giggles. “Nooo, of course not!”

Rhodey’s voice trails off as he goes downstairs. Pepper glances out the door and then gives Steve one last smile. “If you need anything at all, just let me know. I’m sure you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “thanks.”

Then it’s just Sam and Bucky left. They had stepped aside to let Steve and the others have their moment, but now his focus is entirely on them. “So,” Sam says, nodding at the reactor still held tightly in Steve’s hand. “Stark really came back from the dead to give you that? That’s true love right there.”

Steve closes his eyes. “Sam, it wasn’t like—he said that I was stuck between life and death, which was why he was able to talk to me.”  
  
“Even more romantic,” Sam says to Bucky, who’s nodding. “He saved your ass despite being dead. If I was dead, I wouldn’t bother to save some pasty white boy’s ass.”  
  
Steve can’t help his laugh at that. “Sure, Sam.” He hasn’t missed the looks Sam and Bucky give each other. Hell, they sleep in the same room. If they’re trying to hide their relationship, they’re doing an awful job of it. 

“Seriously, Stevie,” Bucky says, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “I hope this helped in some way. I could see how much Stark’s death was tearing you up.”

Steve smiles up at him. 

They leave him alone after that, and all Steve has for company are his thoughts. He lies back on his bed, and thinks of Tony. Of legacies and what they are. 

A day later, Steve’s sitting on his haunches in Tony’s garden, tending to the plants. He trails his fingers over the fragile white petals of one of the gardenias once he’s done watering them. The flower is velvety soft, and Steve can’t help but think of Tony and how loving, how soft he was by the end of his life. 

A delicate floral scent permeates the air, birds chirp from inside of the trees, while the gentle waves of the lake lap at the shore. Steve leans his head backwards, closing his eyes and losing himself in his peaceful surroundings. 

It’s Tony’s birthday, and somehow the thought doesn’t rub his chest raw the way it would have done before. The heaviness that once weighed him down so is lighter today because Steve knows Tony loves him, and loves Morgan, and Pepper, and Rhodey, and everyone else. Tony left his heart, his legacy in each and every person, and it’s up to them to pass that on, to tell his story. 

Tony wasn’t the only one who had a legacy left. 

Steve pushes himself up and brushes the dirt off from his pants. The weight of the arc reactor in his pocket is comforting, familiar. He heads into the cabin, upstairs to his room where he has the shield stored in a corner. Steve hefts it up on his arm, studying it. The red, the white, the blue. The star in the middle. He smiles, because this chapter of his life is over. Now it’s another person’s story to tell. 

Steve knocks on the door to Sam and Bucky’s room. “Sam? You in there?”

There’s some rustling, and Sam comes out. He looks clean and put-together, but Steve can tell he was up to something with Bucky considering Sam won’t open the door any more than he needs to. “Yeah, Cap?” Sam says.

Steve holds out the shield. Sam stares at it. “What? Is there something wrong with it? You should probably tell Shuri about that.”

“No, I,” Steve inhales, shifts his stance, “I wanted to give it. To you.”  
  
Sam’s eyes snap up to Steve’s face. “What?” he repeats.

Steve holds the shield out further, urging Sam to take it. “My story as Captain America is over. But that doesn’t mean Captain America’s story is over. I want to pass my legacy on.” When Sam doesn’t say anything besides take the shield into his own hands, wide-eyed, Steve adds, “Besides, America needs a new hero to symbolize its ideals. Someone new, modern. More… representative of the people. Of their social issues.”

Sam is gazing down at the shield. He glances up at Steve, and says, “Are you sure?”

“More sure than anything I’ve ever done in my life,” Steve says. “I believe in you.”  
  
“Cap—” Sam starts, blinks. “ _ Steve _ . I don’t know what to say.”  
  
“No need to say anything,” Steve says. He crosses his arms over his chest. His lips quirk up slightly. “You’ll do great, Cap.”

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks. He’s still looking at the shield like he can’t believe what’s happening, that it’s in his hands. 

“Me?” Steve palms the arc reactor, thinking of Tony and his heart, his love, of Morgan and the future. “Grow the garden.”

**Author's Note:**

> gardenias represent a secret love :) though, as we know, tony’s love wasn’t all that secret.
> 
> i might go back and review this in the future. it is, as i've said before, really messy and to be honest i don't expect this to get much attention.


End file.
